by Cate Dean
Serena read the rest, then reread all of it before she lowered the papers. It sounded just as crazy the second time. Save seven men by sending them home.
“How am I supposed to do that, Addie? I don’t have your power—any power,” she corrected, part of her appalled that she’d even acknowledged the tingling, the glow around her fingers.
But the rest was secretly thrilled. She had always felt so ordinary, like she had nothing to contribute beyond what she could give of herself. Somehow, that never seemed like enough.
She grabbed a bagel and cream cheese from the fridge, now that her stomach had settled enough for food. She moved to the sofa, and ate as she read through the instructions again, her bare feet tucked under her. The more she read, the deeper she huddled into the oversized sweater she had thrown over her blue and white flowered maxi dress.
In theory, it sounded easy enough. But she knew from experience that nothing Addie had ever been part of turned out to be easy.
“Pendant,” she muttered, and slid off the sofa. “Time to see this mystery pendant.”
The last velvet lump sat in the bottom of the trunk, a small, green velvet bundle. Serena hesitated, then reached in and picked it up. She let out a relieved breath when nothing happened. She had expected to disappear the second her fingers touched the velvet.
The soft, rich fabric fell away from the contents, revealing a jumble of silver chain. Carefully, Serena lifted the chain—and sucked in her breath at first sight of the pendant.
It was gorgeous. A long, oval emerald set in silver, delicate whirls and leaves surrounding it. She looked closer, frowning. The emerald looked murky, what should have been sharp and clear giving off an almost milky cast. Like a moonstone.
Serena glanced down at the page describing the pendant. It matched, right down to the description of the emerald. She studied the long, narrow oval stone, her stomach knotting as she watched the milky interior swirl. Like liquid smoke.
“Oh, God.” That made it all real. Addie had really done this. How was Serena supposed to walk away, when she knew that seven men were trapped? “They could be evil,” she whispered. “Better for everyone if they stayed there, away from the people they might hurt.”
But she knew, from Addie’s concise description, that these men had done only one thing wrong. They had broken the hearts of the women who loved them. In Addie’s eyes, that was more of a sin than murder.
“I can’t—oh, God, Addie.” She dropped the necklace into the trunk and backed away. “Why didn’t you tell me while you were still alive? I could use your unvarnished words about now.”
Serena knew Addie would say one thing. “Don’t be such a coward, girl.”
She scrubbed her face, then reached in and picked up the pendant—without the velvet between her and the silver. It was cool against her palm, except in the middle, where the emerald rested. Heat radiated from it, even through the silver backing.
“No regrets, Addie.” She lifted the pendant by its long silver chain and slipped it over her head. After a long hesitation, she let the pendant slide out of her hand. “Ever.”
It bounced against the front of her dress, then rested between her breasts, heavy and hot. She felt dizzy seconds after contact, and clutched the edge of the table. Her fingernails dug into the pile of parchment, heat shooting up her arm from the contact. She managed to close her hand around the papers, and lost her grip on the table just before her knees buckled.
This was why Addie had repeatedly warned against touching the pendant.
She braced herself to hit the floor—and screamed when she kept going, through the white porcelain tile and into darkness.
Three
“I TELL YE, it’s the witch.”
“She doesn’t look the same, Aiden. You’re so hot for revenge, any female is going to look like her.”
“Nick is correct. She has the same hair, but her face is younger, the look of her softer. She does not possess the rage of the witch.”
“Damn yer eyes, can’t ye see she’s wearing the bloody damned pendant?”
The voices filtered in through the mush of Serena’s mind. She fought for control of her body; if she was where she suspected, there were seven really pissed men surrounding her.
Finally, she managed to pry her lids open, meeting a pair of beautiful, furious blue eyes.
“Welcome back, witch.” He had a thick brogue that only years of watching British television allowed her to understand. “Ye’ll not be leaving this time.”
“Stop threatening her, Aiden.” He was pushed aside, and the owner of the voice appeared. He had a rugged, handsome face, and piercing green eyes. His smile eased the intensity of his gaze. “Welcome to our personal hell, sweetheart. What’s your name?”
“Serena,” she whispered—and promptly tried to cough up her lungs.
“I’ve got you.” He wrapped one arm around her waist, held on to her until she managed to take a full breath without breaking into another coughing fit. “You’re related to her. You have the same eyes. None of us will forget her eyes.”
Murmurs of agreement surrounded her.
“I’m—sorry.” She cleared her throat. “If you’re talking about Addie—Adriana,” she paused at the anger that flared in Nick’s eyes. That was proof enough. “She was my aunt.”
“Was?” A tall, elegant man moved to Nick’s side, grey eyes narrowed as they studied her. “She is dead, then?”
Serena swallowed. “Yes.”
Shouts erupted from the men, echoing in the large cavern. Nick picked her up with his left arm and pinned her to a cold, stone wall, putting himself between her and six furious men.
“Give her a second. She’s not Adriana, damn it.” They ignored him, crowding her, trying to reach past his impressive shoulders to get to her. He used his left arm to shove at them, his right pressed to his side, his fingers shaking. “Stop.” The power of someone used to being in charge rang through the single word. Serena sagged against the wall when the other men backed off. “She may be here to help us.”
“Yes.” Serena forced more strength into her voice, and met each angry, desperate gaze. “I’m here to break the curse.”
IT TOOK NICK, and the tall, elegant man who introduced himself as Charles, some time to settle the uproar at her announcement.
Serena knew that some of them didn’t believe her—especially the Scot, Aiden, He glared at her with those brilliant blue eyes, and she knew if looks could kill, she’d be six feet under.
“Thanks, Addie,” she muttered.
“We’ve been more likely to curse her name.” A slim, blonde-haired man, only a few inches taller than her five foot two, stepped to her, both hands raised. “If you’ve come to help, I’ll be the first to say thank you. I’m Robert.” He held out one hand, a smile on his narrow, handsome face. “It’s a pleasure, Serena.” His beautiful, lilting voice drew her in, so different from Aiden’s rough, broad Scottish accent.
She took his hand, surprised by the callouses on his palm. He wore the clothes of a modern day man—a dark blue shirt and black trousers that were obviously expensive. “Sorry.” She tried for a smile. “I didn’t expect—ˮ
“The hands of a day laborer. I’m an architect, but I do enjoy jumping in and building.” His amusement faded. “I did enjoy it.”
Serena’s heart ached at the pain on his face, the same pain she saw on every man here. Addie had so much to answer for. All Serena could do now was send these men home, and hopefully they could pick up their lives.
“I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure you enjoy it again, Robert.” She pushed off the wall, lifting the sheaf of papers she had managed to hang on to during her tumble to—wherever here was. “Adriana cursed you, and I won’t deny it. She had a twisted view of men. But she did regret her actions, and gave me the means to break the curse.”
I hope.
“Let us see this—means,” Aiden said. He raised his black eyebrows, clearly skeptical.
She sm
iled at him, and held up the papers. “The instructions are here.” Each man eyed the papers like they were holy writ. She said a silent prayer, hoping she told them the truth, then used her free hand to cradle the pendant. “And I believe the power to do it is here.”
Dead silence met her.
Aiden broke it first, his snarling voice sharp as a knife. “Tis the pendant that cursed us.” He shoved past Nick and grabbed her shoulders, yanking her forward until she could feel his hot breath on her face. “Who was it ye wronged, lass?”
“I—no one.” She met Aiden’s fierce gaze. “My aunt’s final wish was for me to break the curse.”
He stared at her, like he was trying to read any lie in her words. Finally, he nodded, his grip gentling. “Show us this breaking ye speak of.”
She tilted her head. “If you let me go, I’ll be happy to.” With a grunt that sounded suspiciously like surprise, he freed her. “Thank you.”
She shuffled through the pile, aware of every man. Their emotions swirled around her; the pain and despair brushed her hands, her cheeks, and had her scanning the pages faster. Relief filled her when she found the passage.
“Here. She says that all you have to do is wear the pendant that brought you to this place. I speak this—incantation, and you’ll be sent home.” She lifted her head and smiled at them. “Simple.”
Nick sighed. “Not so simple, sweetheart.” He laid his right hand on the small of Serena’s back and turned her around. She felt his fingers shake against her back, and it confirmed what she’d suspected earlier. His right arm had been injured at some point, and it was fairly recent. “The second we arrived in this limbo, our pendants flew off, and congregated,” he lifted his arm and pointed. “There.”
Serena followed the line of his arm to a small ledge jutting out of the wall. Seven pendants, identical to hers, lay in a jumble of silver, the emeralds winking in light that seemed to emanate from the stone of the walls.
She covered her mouth. “Oh, God.”
Nick’s deep voice filtered through her shock. “I don’t think even God could sort out this one.”
SERENA SPENT THE next hour scouring the papers, trying to ignore the restless men. Thank God for Nick. He stood guard, and warned off anyone who tried to approach her.
By the time she finished, she’d discovered three things. First, that some additions had appeared in the instructions—additions that explained the pile of pendants. The second and third were going to provoke a reaction she really wished she wouldn’t be around to see.
“Nick.”
He turned, moving to her side. “Find any answers?”
She met his piercing green eyes, and wished again that she didn’t have to say the next words. “I did. You’re not going to like them.”
With a sigh, he rubbed his forehead. “Will they get us out of here?” She nodded. “Will they get us home?”
“Not exactly.”
“Tell me and I’ll—ˮ
“Thank you.” She laid one hand on his arm. “I have to be the one to do this. Addie gave this responsibility to me.”
After a long, intense scrutiny, he nodded. “I’m standing next to you, so I can grab any idiot stupid enough to try and take his frustration out on your gorgeous self.”
“Thank you.” Serena felt heat rush to her cheeks. Hopefully, the dim lighting helped hide it. That hope died when Nick smiled at her, his fingers brushing one cheek.
“A lovely blush, for that gorgeous face.” His smile faded, and he lowered his hand. “Remember this, Serena—we’ve been here, without sight or smell of a woman. Time seems endless here, and I don’t remember who came before or after me. Keep yourself apart from us, as much as you can.”
She swallowed, aware of the deep v of her maxi dress. With shaking fingers, she pulled her sweater closed. Thank God for that, and the fact that her dress covered everything but her bare feet. Bare feet that weren’t cold, even on the rough, stone floor. She also wasn’t hungry or thirsty, or tired.
It was like being trapped in a single moment. Forever.
“I need to tell them, Nick. Before I lose my nerve.”
“That bad?”
She wanted to say no. God, how she wanted it. “Yes.”
“Then let’s get it over with, so I can start damage control.”
“How were you injured?”
He froze, his shoulders stiff under the white t-shirt. Serena immediately wanted to take back her question. When he finally turned to her, the anger in his eyes had her stumbling back.
“I’m sorry, gorgeous.” He ran one hand through his dark brown hair, his bangs falling back into his eyes. “It’s still too new for me. And I don’t seem to heal here, just—exist. I was in Afghanistan, and got hit by flying shrapnel. My shoulder was cut up pretty badly, and the shrapnel did nerve damage. I was in the middle of physical therapy when I landed here.”
“I’m so sorry.” She stared at the floor. “I shouldn’t have asked like that.”
“Hey.” He moved to her, tilting her chin up until she met his eyes. There was no anger, only a deep, helpless despair. Even that disappeared behind his smile, like he knew she had seen it and fought to hide it from her. “It shows me you care, even for someone you just met. I’d like to think you’re here because you care about what happened to seven strangers.”
“Once I knew about you, I couldn’t put that away.”
“Good. Now let’s go share the bad news.”
Serena smiled up at him. She couldn’t help herself; despite his injury, and the flashes of anger that seemed to be directed at himself, he was charming. It would be easy for him to break a woman’s heart with that charm.
Nick led her to the rest of the men. They stood in the center of the large cavern, tense and silent. Serena took a deep breath, then looked up at Nick.
“Can you introduce me to everyone? I’d like to know their names first, and where they’re from.”
“Sure.” He pointed at himself. “Nick Saunders, former Army. I’m from San Francisco, 2012.” He nodded to Robert, who stepped forward.
“Robert Macintosh—no relation to the great Charles Rennie.” He winked at Serena. “Architect, from Glasgow, 2001.”
The next man joined him, leaning on a crutch. He was tall, lanky, and wearing a robe and pajamas. “Private Kit Burke, 43rd Field Ambulance, RAMC. I was in hospital, recovering from an injury. France, April 1918.”
Aiden was next, and he gave Serena a bow. His kilt revealed strong calves, and the plaid draped around him only accentuated his powerful chest. “Aiden McLeod, Laird of Clan McLeod.” He lifted his chin, black curls brushing his broad shoulders, and she saw the pride in his brilliant blue eyes. “Scotland, 1745.”
He gestured to the compact man next to him, who wore rugged clothes, and looked like he’d spent his life working the land. “Rory Turner, milady.” He gave Serena a bow, not meeting her eyes. “From the year of our Lord, 1595.”
She pressed one hand to her heart. “This must be strange to you, Rory.”
“Not as much as you fear, milady. We were burdened by witches.” He glanced at her, regret in his clear brown eyes. “I fear I earned my place here.”
“We are men,” Aiden said, his hands clenched into fists. “We break women’s hearts. Why are we punished as criminals for such?”
Serena moved to him, surprising them both when she touched his shaking fist. Her heart skipped, and she fought the sudden need to lean into that powerful chest. “Addie was wrong, Aiden. What she did to you, to all of you, is more severe than you deserve. I understand, as a woman, that having your heart broken can feel worse than death.” His fist loosened, and she took his hand, his fingers warm, and heavy with callouses. “But unless you actually killed the woman whose heart you broke, you don’t deserve this. That’s why I’m here.”
She let go of him and backed away, startled and more than a little scared by her reaction when she touched him.
Nick gestured to Charles, who stepped forward, t
ook her hand in both of his, and bent over to kiss her fingers. The extravagant lace cuffs of his shirt framed long, graceful hands that had never seen hard work. “Lord Charles de Witt, Earl of Lancaster, arrived from London, 1872.” Aiden snarled at him, and Charles let go of her hand to bow to Aiden, obviously not surprised. “Please make an attempt to curb your barbaric tendencies, McLeod. Your argument was with my ancestors, not me.”
That reminder had Aiden backing down. “Fairly spoken. Englishman.” He made it sound like a curse word.
“Enough,” Nick said. “Let’s get this finished.”
He gestured to the last man, who hadn’t said a word since Serena woke up. A smile flashed across his tanned face, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He swept off his sweat-stained Stetson and stepped forward, gave Serena a low bow.
“Ben Rowland, ma’am. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I hail from the great state of Montana. I was on a cattle drive from Texas when I crossed Adriana, in 1866.”
Serena nodded, her head spinning. The span of time was mind-boggling. If what these men said was true—and there was no reason for them to lie—then proof of Addie’s long life stood in front of Serena.
“Thank you. I wish I had time to get to know all of you, but I’d rather get you home as quickly as I can.” She lifted the papers, and sighed, resigned to their negative reaction at her next words. “Unfortunately, if what I read is true, you won’t be going back to your own time.”
Four
NICK AND CHARLES finally calmed everyone enough for Serena to continue.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I wish I could change this, but Addie separated you from your pendant deliberately.”
“Bitch,” Aiden said, his voice deep and furious. His temper didn’t scare Serena like it had before.
